He laughed
by blondie1369
Summary: An you know what Black did then?... Laughed... Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off.
1. Laughed

**Author's Note - I don't own Sirius Black or his world. I do own the words here so please don't pinch...**

**All criticism is welcome, honesty is the best policy and all that. But cruelty for cruelties sake is offensive. **

**"An you know what Black did then? ..._ Laughed_ ** ...**Jus stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off."**

He watched the tail disappear, watched the blood soak into the dry dirt. It felt like hours before the screaming started, before the scene came back to focus.

Smoke, blood, Peter's smirk as he finally got the better of his old friend. He would remember that smile for the rest of his life. Remember the smell of charred concrete and flesh.

The rest of his life. What life? What could there possibly be? Hadn't he been through enough? He stared dumbly around him. Bodies were lying all around him, littering the ground like confetti.

None were moving. His hand was still raised. Pointed at the place were Peter had been.

Sirius had felt too shocked to speak; too shocked to utter the killing curse he so desperately wanted to scream. To see Peter crumble as James must have. Too see the terror and the realisation that that was it.

Those two words held so much power in Sirius' mind. Yet he couldn't move his lips, he could hardly breath in the face of that smile.

Not Remus; Peter. It had been Peter. All along. Peter: the weakest. Peter: the pathetic side kick to him and James. Peter who he had always thought of as an untalented wannabe. Peter who had protested so earnestly to being given the responsibility of secret keeper. Peter who had cried as he promised he would rather die than give James, Lily and Harry up.

Harry. Harry. Harry. That name. That smile. The smell of talcum powder and happiness. The eyes. Green like Lily's. The cut which marred his once smooth forehead. Harry's little face had swum infront of Sirius' eyes as he had starred at Peter. As Peter had smiled back, pulling out a knife.

He could still hear James' laugh echoing in his ear. Hear Lily's scolding for taking Harry for a ride on his bike. Harry had loved it, giggling in his warm blankets.

And as Peter; that same travesty on his lips, cut his finger off. Sirius could only look on; frozen as the finger dropped onto the ground. Blood seeping into the dirt. Blood on Peter's hands. Blood. Sirius couldn't get the sight out of his mind.

The realisation had hit him so hard that it felt as if Peter had stuck the knife in his heart. It hurt so much. He hadn't believed it. Not even upon seeing that smile. Not until Peter had given a little wave. His face elated.

Then he had shouted. Loud enough so all the muggle's turned. Shouted that Sirius had killed James and Lily, and then appeared to cry. All the time with that hateful smirk fixed on Sirius.

Sirius was still frozen in time and space as Peter gave a flick of his wand and the world exploded. But Sirius could see nothing but Peter, Peter disappearing. Transforming to the rat which Sirius knew he would recognise anywhere.

The tail was the last he saw, disappearing into the drain with a twitch. Escaping. And then the scene came back to him. The smell of charred flesh. The sound of screaming. The sight of lifeless bodies.

And the reality that he had caused all this. It had been him. He was the one who had underestimated Peter. Never once believed he would have the courage.

His arm fell to his side. Gripping his useless wand. He should have finished it. But he couldn't. Despite all the rage and the anger and the thought of Lily, James and Harry…

Harry gurgling in his arms as he held him for the first time. So tiny. So small. He had promised that day to protect Harry from all harm until the day he died. He had failed spectacularly.

And yet, he couldn't do it. At last Peter had proven himself better. He had killed at least a dozen people and he, Sirius had been unable to kill one.

So he laughed. There was nothing else he could do. Tears were streaming down his face. He had nothing. James and Lily's laughing faces joined him. Laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the fact that Peter Pettigrew had out smarted Sirius Black.

He was still laughing when the Magical Law Enforcement Squad arrived. And when they asked if he had caused this? He told them the truth. Yes he had. He was to blame.

Lily and James were dead because of him. And then he finally stopped laughing.

**A/N - If you liked it or disliked it, please R & R.**


	2. Years

**Author's Note - I don't own Sirius or the world. But the words are my own. **

**Griffindor55goddess - Thanks for the review. I'm sorry you didn't like it. I guess I wasn't trying to write a story but more a character background. I always found it strange Sirius laughed when he was being arrested. Can't be everyones cup of tea. **

** Silverpheonix2 - Ta for liking part 1. Hope you like part 2.  
**

Hours, days, weeks, months, years. Funny how they all melded into one. How after a while. You stopped noticing time. Stopped wondering what was happening in the outside world. Stopped caring. The dementors soon put a stop to that.

He knew every inch of his cell. Every brick. Every shadow that fell through his tiny window. Every bit of rust on the bars. Every pattern of every section of the floor. Every knot in the wood in the door.

He sat there day after day, year after year. Unconcerned by anything. Not even raising his head when the Minister for Magic himself visited him on occasion. He had no interest in attempting to convince anyone he was innocent. He knew it would be futile.

"_Why yes Minister, Peter Pettigrew faked his own death, turned into a rat and disappeared into the sewers." _

He had long since given up hope. Hope of anything. Hope of getting out of Azkaban. Hope of escaping. Hope of finding Peter and doing what he should have done all those years ago. Hope of finally uttering those two final words. Hope of explaining to Harry. Hope of Harry believing him.

It was all gone. He supposed that was the Dementors. Everytime they came near he saw Lily's smile. Saw James messing up his hair as if he'd just gotten off a broomstick. Heard Harry's giggle.

At the very beginning it was all he could do not to go mad. In fact he sometimes thought he must have. But now, those images brought him a kind of cold comfort. He knew he had not betrayed them. Failed them yes. But not betrayed.

He was innocent and he held on to that thought with every fibre of his being. Held on to it so tight it hurt.

To them he didn't move. Hardly slept. Barely ate. But inside was a battle so fierce he was left too exhausted to stand. The battle for his sanity. The battle to remember he was still human and would always be innocent.

When it got too much. When the walls closed in on him and he almost lost his grip he transformed. Everything was so much simpler as Padfoot. And above all it reminded him of Prongs and Moony.

Moony who he had suspected. Moony who now believed him to be a murderer and betrayer. To Sirius the latter was worse. He had fully intended to be a murderer. He wanted to be. With every part of him he wished he had killed Peter. With his bare hands if need be.

The hate also kept him going. Hate of Peter. Of the friend he had trusted. The friend he had believed to be weak. Who turned out to be the strongest of them all.

He didn't even know how long it had been, he guessed at least ten years, when Fudge came to visit him for the last time. He strutted in and glared at Sirius, as if annoyed he was still alive, saying something about an inspection.

Sirius stared back, in what he hoped was an insolent way. Fudge was fiddling with his lime green bowler hat and holding a paper under his arm. It was only when he glanced at the front page that he noticed a picture.

A picture of a large wizzarding family standing infront of the pyramids waving enthusiastically at the camera. But it was who was perched on top of the shoulder of the smallest boy that made Sirius' blood run cold. So cold he thought a Dementor had stepped into the cell.

"Can I borrow your paper?" He asked in what he hoped was a bored fashion, standing up he advanced on Fudge who stepped back. Then seemed to bristle and glared at Sirius. "I do miss doing the crosswords." Fudge practically threw the paper at him, a look of deep disgust on his face. "Thank you." Sirius murmured then went back to his seat.

Fudge muttered something about doing the decent thing and dying and stalked out. As soon as Sirius was alone he stared at the picture.

He had known that he would have recognised Peter as a rat. But seeing him there on the front page of the Daily Prophet was like being punched in the stomach. Sitting there bold as brass. With a toe missing.

He stared at the picture for what seemed like hours. And then it eventually sank in. He had always known Peter was on the outside, always known he would be hiding. But in such plan sight? As happy and fat as he had always been?

Sirius hadn't thought he could feel any worse. Then he read the article. Hogwarts. Harry. How old was Harry now?

Glancing at the picture of the young boy who had the rat on his shoulder, he looked thirteen maybe fourteen. The date on the newspaper told Sirius Harry would be around the same age and at Hogwarts as well.

His blood was now like ice in his veins.

Now he had a purpose. An aim. A desperate hope. Get to Peter. Get to Harry.

**A/N- All R&R's welcome. **


	3. Harry

**A/N: Harry Potter is J.K Rowling's, that clever lady. But these words are mine. **

**Thanks angelcity and dempi for your reviews. It does mean a lot that you like it so far, hope this doesn't disappoint. **

It was good to be in the fresh air. To be able to see the sky. He hadn't seen sky for twelve years. He had never realised how much he missed it, its potential, not being fenced in. Trapped.

He'd always been active, he'd always been fit. But now his body felt old and frail. Wasted. For the first time he'd seen his reflection. He hadn't recognised the face staring back at him. The gaunt, skeletal features. The dead eyes. It would have mattered to him twelve years ago. He would have cared then.

Now the one thing he cared about was Harry. Harry who was the last part of James left. Harry who he could protect as he'd failed to protect James. The last thing that mattered. And he was in the same place, or would be, as Peter.

The date on the paper he found was mid July. That meant in just over a month Harry should be boarding the Hogwarts express due for school. But so would Peter. The man who had everything but murdered Harry's parents. Murdered James. The rat who had been the cause of so much death and so much pain.

Sirius first instinct was to go to Dumbledore. But then reason, for once, had prevailed. Dumbledore believed him to be a mad man, a murderer and a traitor. Dumbledore would kill him or incapacitate him before he could even open his mouth.

Then he thought of Harry, of convincing his Godson of his innocence. But Harry would have only heard the official story. Would hate Sirius Black. Would probably want to kill him for handing his parents to Voldermort.

Moony? His old friend Remus? He had believed him to be the traitor, believed the worst of him. So there was an almost certainty that his fellow marauder would have believed the worst of Sirius in return. Especially with so much evidence against him.

Without proof, he knew no would believe him. And the only proof he had was that Peter was alive. The he had been for these last twelve years, while he'd been safely locked up in Azkaban; Peter had not shown himself. Had hidden. That was his proof. And he knew exactly where his old friend would be on September 1st.

He knew he would have to stay in the shadows. Bide his time and when he had the opportunity, kill the worthless rat. Now he thought about it, Peter's animagus had been so appropriate. As if a bit of fore-shadowing had been going on all those years ago.

So, Hogwarts it was. But he had one thing he had to do before setting off on the long journey.

888

He crouched in the shadows as Padfoot. He'd arrived at Privet Drive to find a great deal of commotion. Wizards and witches everywhere, at first he had thought the worst. That something had happened to Harry. But then he over-heard one bald black wizard mention Harry to a blonde witch.

"He's gone. That fool Dursley let him just walk out. Alone. With Sirius Black on the loose!"

Sirius slunk away, worried. Harry had run away? He had heard a lot about Lily's silly sister and her fool of a husband, but let him leave in the middle of the night?

Then he picked up a scent which made his nose twitch. Sharp, like sawdust and yet with a softer note of... sweet flowers? Harry. It had to be. He smelled like James and Lily. Following it he padded softly, through the pristine streets. Finally he ducked into some bushes.

A little further ahead a boy was sat on a large trunk staring about as if in a daze. Sirius felt a tightening in his chest, then the boy looked in his direction and he couldn't breath.

If he hadn't seen James' lifeless body he would have believed it to be his closest friend, except when he was thirteen. His black hair stuck up in the same, messy, unrulely way. He slouched his slim frame in the same slightly dejected way.

His height was almost exactly the same as James had been then, he had the same thin pale face and even wore the same style glasses…

Except, now he looked closer. There were differences. His nose. And. Oh God. His eyes.

Even as Padfoot he felt his heart tighten and his stomach drop. He had Lily's eyes. Soft, almond shape and brilliantly green. And there marring his forehead was a lightening shape scar. The scar. The only mark left on him from Voldermort's killing curse. The same curse which had killed James and Lily.

And with that he felt such an overwhelming anger surging through him. Made stronger by the dog shape.

Harry was the truly innocent one in all this. And here he was, alone, no parents, no Godfather, completely vulnerable and with a scar on his forehead. A permanent reminder of what Peter had done. Such hatred was coursing through his veins, like a torrent and he knew if Peter were here he would gladly kill him with his bare hands. Kill him like he should have all those years ago. Those two words would come so easy to him now.

He must have made a sound because Harry was on his feet with his wand in his hand.

"Lumos." And a light shone on him.

And then Sirius knew James was still alive. In his son. Because Harry stepped forward. Stepped forward towards the unknown. Towards danger. Just as his father would have done. Then he seemed to trip over his trunk, his wand shooting out of his outstretched hand.

A loud bang startled Sirius as a purple triple decker bus appeared out of thin air. Seeing Harry clamber up he decided he would have to make do with that glimpse of him before he started North.

Disappearing into the undergrowth he found a soft spot under a tree and slumped down. Harry. He had never imagined he would look so like James. With Lily's eyes.

And for the first time in twelve years Sirius cried.


	4. Halloween

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter world but these words are mine. **

**Thanks for your review anglecity, feel like I'm on a real roll now with this fic. Sirius Black is so the most interesting character but I'm think of doing a POV of another. Maybe Remus. Not sure. Whats does everyone think?  
**

It was getting cold. Sometimes he changed to Padfoot just so he'd have a nice thick furry coat. But when he was Padfoot all his emotions were so much more simple. He hated it.

What he thought, what he felt, when he was human, was complicated. And he needed to feel it even though it exhausted him. All the emotions; anger, fear, resentment, regret, hatred, sadness, disgust, pity, hope. All the thoughts: James, Lily, Harry, Remus, Peter, Dumbledore.

But most of all, the memories haunted him; Hogwarts, the grounds, Hagrid (who would probably tear him limb from limb if he found him), the lake, the shrieking shack, the forbidden forest. It all reminded him so much of the marauding years. The fun and laughs, the hits and misses, the secret passages and adventures. The pranks and detentions. Snape. James. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

If he half closed his eyes he could almost see all four of them; traipsing through the grounds on the way to classes. Sneaking out of the castle in search of mischief. Oblivious to the future. Unaware that in fifteen years, one would be dead, one his murderer, one a fugitive and the other an outcast without his friends.

He wondered if he could, what he would say to his younger self; the young handsome Sirius completely ignorant of his future. His past was so prominent here it was no wonder he felt confused, befuddled and generally over-whelmed.

It was as if he had past the last twelve years in what he had convinced himself was a kind of dream. And had then woken to find his dream was true. He had been unable to face the consequences of his actions and decisions in Azkaban. But here. Here at Hogwarts with Harry so close, a piece of James so near and solid; the reality was all around him.

He often caught a glimpse of Harry. He would recognise him anywhere because at a distance he looked like James. What had alarmed him was the red haired boy who was now Peter's 'owner' was always with him. Just as he had always been with James and they were often accompanied by a girl with big busy hair.

It was the fact that the boy was obviously a friend of Harry's in the same house judging by their matching gold and scarlet scarfs. (Harry was a Griffindor, this made him feel proud and he knew it would have delighted James.) But it was the fact that the two boys would sleeping in the same dormitory, which prompted him to act.

He had to. He kept telling himself. Peter was in the same dormitory as Harry. Peter was sleeping in the same room as James' son. It made his blood boil. His anger soon became his primary emotion. Like a red hot poker in his chest, driving him on. The cave he had made his base was near Hogsmeade. Every night he would sneak in, watching, waiting. A paper he stole told him it was late October.

After a few days a plan began to slowly formulate. Halloween. All the students would be in the Great Hall. The Griffindor wing would be empty. Apart from Peter.

It wasn't hard slipping through the shutters in the shrieking shack. They were meant to keep humans out, not dogs. Especially not a dog that was thinning from eating nothing but what he could scavenge from the local village without drawing attention to himself.

From there it was easy. A quick paw was all it took to immobilise the whomping willow. Up through the grounds he knew like the back of his hand and in the front doors. Using a few of the secret stairways and back corridors he arrived at the seventh floor corridor which had been his home for the happiest days of his life.

Changing form he crept forward. And there she was. Still splendid in her pink silk dress.

She eyed him curiously. "I know you." She said, but she obviously didn't know where from.

"Sure you do." He replied hoarsely. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation with anyone but himself.

"I _know _you." She repeated; her brow furrowed.

"Well." He tried to sound casual. "Let me in."

"Password?"

"Er…" He hadn't thought of that.

"No password no entry." She eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you? You're not a student or a teacher…"

"Let me in." He said again, more firmly. "I need to get in."

"No password no entry." She repeated.

"I need to get in." He repeated, his temper flaring. Peter was just metres away. He could practically smell him… Smell the fear…

"Look. No password no entry." She repeated. "Oh, I know where from. You used to be a student."

"Yes, so let me in." He growled.

"You used to tag around with that James Potter, the one who was murdered by You know who. His son's in this house you know." Her tone was gossipy but soon she would realise who he was and raise the alarm.

"Let me in." He growled, brandishing his knife. She stared at him.

"You wouldn't."

"You won't let me in?" He asked, stepping closer, holding his blade inches away from her canvas.

"NO." She yelled and he saw a brief flash of pink silk before he completely lost his control over his rage and took all the pain and anger he was feeling on the empty canvas. The painting which stood between him and justice. And revenge.

As he fled he felt the rage bubble down to be replaced with the bitter taste of failure.

Twelve years. In Azkaban.

He'd waited and bided his time. But for what? To blocked by the very defences intended to protect Harry. The same defences which now kept him from James killer.

He would have to think of another way. And that was when he met the bandy legged ginger cat with a squashed face.


End file.
